The time is up – we are going to miss the movie. I love my girlfriend to the ends of the earth but this is the third time now when our plans have been cancelled or delayed because of her terrible time-keeping. She definitely knew the start time – messaged me a few hours ago to confirm. So where is she?At that point she comes running up, her beautiful face hardly flushed from what must have been a sprint. And her excuse – those stupid Judo classes. Again. It’s always the stupid judo – she loves it so much, I’m starting to think that it is more important to her than I am. And this time I can’t hold it in. You knew the start time, you said that was fine. You said that you would be here.

I know, I know. I should have been able to get here on time but we were perfecting a new throw and I wanted to get it spot on so I stayed behind.

You stayed behind after the class even though you knew that you were meeting me?

Yes. Sorry. But it’s such a really cool move and I wanted to have it perfect in my mind before I left.

A cool move? A cool move? This ‘cool move’ is more important than meeting up with your boyfriend?

Errm…well, yea. Sorry babe but yes – it’s fantastic. And I can’t believe how easy I found it to master.

Oh for goodness sake, I can’t take this anymore, it’s totally rediculous.

What is?

This dumb judo of course. It’s laughable. I know that you want me to be supportive, darling, and I really want to be, I think that I have been. But really now….what are you doing?

I’m sorry?? What????

With this silly judo. It’s pointless. What’s even the point of it? As if you’re ever going to be in a fight or try out these moves.

I fight all the time.

Well yes in class – but that’s just for the class, not in real life. Let’s get real here, you couldn’t handle yourself in a real fight anymore than you could walk on water.

Of course I could.

And then I really lost it – first I started laughing, then hysteria kicked in. The idea of Gina in a fight. Visibly it wouldn’t be laughable. At 6 feet 1, and 200 pounds she is an imposing figure and I see the looks everywhere I go when people double take at her height and my, relative, tiny and skinny 5’7” frame. It was such an attraction to me always, from the first moment I saw her. I never could believe that she was interested in me. And looking up to her, standing on tip toes just to kiss her, had not lost any of its sexiness in the whole year we have been together. But for her strong muscly body she carried herself nothing less than a Lady at all times. She still wore heels, always in a tight skirt or dress. She loved showing off her crazy feminine curves. And she loves her femininity as much as I do so …..well, femininity doesn’t go too well in a brawl now does it!! Oh just the concept was hilarious.

Until I saw her face. My laughter had not gone down well. She was glaring at me with a look in her eyes which I have never seen before. Her eyes were piercing me as if she were physically experiencing the boiling of her blood. There was a pause. I slowly managed to calm down my laughter. And then there was silence. For way too long. Gradually, as the silence settled, and lingered, and dragged, I began to feel a creeping sense of dread. I had really, really messed up this time.

Then her face changed. The fury subsided, her head cocked to one side she looked inquisitive.

So…..if something happened to us…..like, right now…..imagine we were mugged right here outside the movie theater. Who do you think would fight off the mugger?

I was about to laugh but managed to stop myself. She still caught the smile that flickered across my lips, but I vanished it as quickly as I could with a drawn out:

Weeellllllllllllllllllllllllll

Yes?

I mean….

Yes?

Well let’s be realistic.

Another pause. Longer this time. I was just counting my lucky stars that that glare had gone but I had the tingling sense that something worse might be on its way.

But my instincts were wrong and actually she smiled, moved in close to me and said:You’re right, baby. What was I thinking? You will always be there to protect me.

I leaned in to kiss her.

WHAM

It took a minute or two to process what had happened. The first thing that I could register was that I was on the ground. Somehow I found myself from standing to now I’m on the ground. Then the pain hit, in the bottom of my back and my ass I started to piece together than I had been brought to the ground via impact from that area – and I could feel it. Then my right shoulder, that felt strange too. What just happened? I looked up and Gina was standing above me, all of the giantess of her, looking down on me and smiling. She seemed to be expecting me to say something. All I could muster was:Wha…uh…I….eurgh…..

Apparently that wasn’t what she had wanted to hear and she turned on those sexy leather stilletto heels of hers and walked off. I was left dazed, hurt and wondering how I was going to get out of trouble with her.

By the time I got to my feet she had disappeared so I headed home. But as I pulled in she was at the window, waiting. She had transformed the lounge into a wrestling room with the furniture pushed back and mats covering the floor. She was dressed in a black leotard, with nude, sheen pantyhose and no shoes. She had her hands on her hips and no smile on her face.

Come in. Shut the door.

I obeyed.

I didn’t realize that you felt that way. I didn’t think that you, of all people, could really have such a dumb, outdated and false way of thinking.

I tried to interrupt but she wouldn’t let me.

No. I’m talking. It’s not ok. This is not ok for me to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t see my strength.

I looked up at her. Even barefoot she was still a tower above my stature.

So, the way I see it there’s only one way forward.

That was when I realized just how serious she was. I’d only seen that serious look on her face one other time. When I met her parents – right before we arrived at their house, she gave me a pep talk and explained how important their opinion is. And her face became grave and important. Like now. Shit, this is it, she’s going to dump me. Over this? Just for one little misunderstanding?

I can’t be with you if you think that you are stronger than me.And I won’t believe you now if you tell me that you do think I’m stronger than you because I know the truth is that you don’t think that andyou’re just saying it to appease me.

So that’s a dead end isn’t it?

The only option is for you to believe something you don’t believe. So the only way is to change your mind.

So I’m going to show you that I’m stronger than you. I’m going to show you, and then show you and then show you relentlessly.

Sure, yea.

Oh phew. This would all be over soon and we can chill out, I’ll cook her a nice dinner and we can forget this whole silly thing. She was moving toward me.

Wham

And again I was on the ground. No pain this time though, the softness of the mats what definitely appreciated.

Ok baby, there yes – you are stronger. I knew it really.

Wham

And again. Ok. Whatever needs to be done.

Wham

Oh for goodness sake, how long would this go on for.

Yep, I get it darling

Wham

I’m starting to get dizzy. And that strange feeling in my right shoulder was now clearly from her pulling hard downwards on my right arm. Somehow I was being tossed over her right hip.

No you don’t get it. I know that you don’t get it because you’re not trying. So apparently you think that I am only stronger than you when you’re not trying.

Ok, yea, ok, whatever you…..

Wham

Babe

This time I didn’t get up straight away. I sat up on the mats and looked up at her. She wasn’t even out of breath.

Ok you have proved you point.

I haven’t even started. You haven’t begun to try to stop me yet.

I looked down at my feet and slowly dragged myself up. Really? What does she want me to do.

Wham

This is ridiculous. I’m not going to be thrown around like this in my own lounge. Ok then, she wants me to stop her then I’m going to have to stop her.

Wham

Urgh, she caught me off guard. Ok. I’m just going to grab her arms and restrain her, clearly she’s started getting hysterical now.

Wham.

How many more times. This has to end.

Wham.

No. No more

Wham

Gina, this is crazy.

Wham

Gina, for fucks sake. I’m getting dizzy.

So stop me.

Gina

Stop me.

Ok, she asked for it. I went for her arms, she blocked and parried and …

Wham

But I’m up again and this time I’m ready for her clever arm moves. But…

Wham

Her tactics were beginning to work. Try as I might to control myself, I’m getting angry now and now I want to fight back.

Wham

I know this is what she wants and I don’t want to give in to it but if its the only way to stop this madness.

Wham

I’m going full force now. Nothing held back.

Wham

This time I go full in with my whole body. All of a sudden I’m in a headlock. I feel her forearm tightening against my throat. I grasp it with my hands to try to pull it off but it won’t move. And now my ankle has been kicked out from underneath me and

Wham

I’m getting tired now but this has to end. I look at her. She has a faint glisten about her forehead but she’s not even breathing heavily. This is becoming a very unfair fight. And on it goes. Over and over again. I tried every move I could think of, I tried every muscle in my body and without exception she took me down every time.

I want you to say something

Yes, I got it. I know what you want me to say “you are stronger than me”

Wham

You are stronger than me, Gina, I said it, I said it, you’re stronger.

Wham

This time she had taken me all the way over her back, lifting me like a firemans lift but then throwing me all the way over.

Gina, I’m saying it. You’re stronger. You’re the stronger one. I’m not as strong as you. How many ways do you want me to say it.

Do you believe it?

Now she had my arm and she was twisting it around from the wrist.

Yes. yes yes yes yes, for heaven’s sake yes I believe it.

Wham

She had spun my arm right over my head with such speed and force that my whole body followed and I was down once again.

No. It’s not enough. You will say anything to get out of this right now but if I’m going to believe that you have learned your lesson then I need to completely change your mindset.

What? But I learned my lesson, really I did. Please, I get it now. I know. I know.

Wham

Surely there had to be something I could do. Surely there was some move I could use to overpower her. There’s no way that she can take me on so easily and I can be defeated by her. That can’t be possible.

Say “Men are the weaker sex”.

Oh come on now.

Say it.

I can’t say……

Wham

I can’t say that babe, that’s ridiculous.

I’m getting up now, I’m on all fours about to bring myself to my feet. When she comes up behind me, grabs my head under her shoulder, pulls me backwards and throws me onto my tailbone.

Wham

Babe, be realistic.

Wham.

I’m so tired now. But I can’t say that. I can’t say something so blatantly false. But she keeps going.

Wham

She’s sweating a little but it doesn’t seem to be taking anything out of her. I honestly think she could go on like this all night. And now she is telling me about the other women in her class and how some of them can beat her but even those who can’t would be able to beat me.

Wham

Wham

I’ve never felt so small. She’s never seemed so big. And I’m thinking about all the women I’ve dated. Actually they could all have kicked my ass. Yes, actually they really could have. Let’s face it, there’s probably not many girls I could take on and really win.

Wham

Could it be true? In our entire relationship I’ve never known Gina be misguided on any subject. On nearly every topic we agree completely, and when we don’t I always discover later that she was right. Maybe she’s right. After all, she has combat classes twice a week so she would know more about strength than me.

Wham

How has it taken so long for you to see this? The moment you met me you could see how powerful I was. Did you put all that power down to just my sexuality.

But you’re so feminine

Hahaha.

Now it’s her turn to laugh hysterically. She even throws her head back and I see my chance. Lunging for her head with my forearm, this will be it. She ducks, my forearm, followed by my torso, are over her back and then I feel my legs follow over the top of my head.

Wham.

What the fuck do you think femininity is you moron. How can you be so dumb? Feminitity is my strength, it is my power, it is through my femininity that I can do things like this.

Wham

And this.

From my position, splayed on my back, She pulled up my left leg and locked her left arm around the back of the knee. Her right arm had gone around the back of my neck and her hands were locking together like a vice. I couldn’t move. Shit. Don’t be stupid, both of my hands and arms are free, of course I can get out. But her body was pressed against my left side solid, firm and unmovable. Also, to move my arms I had to hold my sitting up position. It was a predicament of choices in which neither sitting up nor laying down was comfortable or helpful to my release. How the hell could I get out of this. My leg, I’ll try my right leg because she only has the left one. I flailed, I kicked. I rocked back and forth, I moved myself around in a circle like the hands of a clock. Gina was calm, motionless and didn’t even seem to be trying. I don’t know how long this went on. I hope that it wasn’t longer than 10 minutes but I fear it was more like 20. Then, slowly and steadily.

Say it. Say it and mean it and believe it.

Gina

Her hands tightened and my left knee came in closer to my face.

Gina

Say it.

Her face was pressed against mine now as her vice grip encompassed me along the left side of my body completely. Her breathing was slow and steady. Mine was weak and stilted. I thought back over our relationship. How long had she been able to do this to me? ‘Always’, I reasoned. From that very first moment she looked down at this squirt of a man trying hard to impress her. ‘Always’. I just didn’t want to think about it. I just didn’t want to use reasoning because I had never equated her magnificence to physical, body strength. And certainly never to violence. That was a mistake. I could see that now. Just because someone is caring and beautiful and peaceful – don’t mistake them for someone who cannot take you down in an instant. And all the better that she can. She is amazing.

Men are the weaker sex.

I whispered it but not because I was ashamed of what I was saying. Rather, this dawn of realisation felt wonderful. It was a liberation which I have never felt before, something had shifted and something felt different and it was making me feel free.

I love you. She whispered back, loosening her grip and taking my face in her right hand to kiss me. It was the first time she had said those words. I sunk into her and happiness washed over me.

I always feel I am on the edge of being submissive and being vanilla. So I did have a few sessions with other mistresses before. But it did not go very well because I did not feel I was truly dominated. However, Amazon Aurea is another level.

I was immediately conquered literally one second she met me. “On your knees” She said, with 6’1 tall height and a high heel, she is a truly Amazon when I look her up. She asked me to remember her stare down which every time I think now, I can feel her power. My favorites are foot fetish related. She is a real master of that. My mouth is full of her pretty feet and I feel so blessed. I was choked by her foot gagging while she was laughing.

She then put her weight on me and used me as a chair . The moment I was touched by her, I felt so tiny and small. I tried to escape but you know it was impossible. She squeezed me with her beautiful long legs and I was already happy to death.

This is the best session I ever had in my life. The domination level is just unbelievable. Thank you Amazon Aurea

I have seen these INCREDIBLE experts talk MULTIPLE times at rallies, at marches, at SOAR events, SWOP meetings and Red Umbrella gatherings, even at vanilla art-spaces*. They know EVERYTHING there is to know about sex trafficking and about sex work and, often, not just the same organisation but the SAME INDIVIDUAL can give you FIRST HAND EXPERIENCE of BOTH self-trafficking and voluntary sex-work. So why do I feel like when I step into “real” (read “vanilla”) life I have to step down to pre-school level and instead of specialists I must watch political journalists and once-respected DC spokespeople FAIL to explain this Washington assault on sex-workers’ lifestyles.

Like every sex worker (like every worker): I am two people. I am an advocate and personal-expert on My profession, and also a citizen, tax-payer and daily-news consumer.

Maybe this is how the coal-miners felt when their work was policitised during 2016. I confess that I did not recognise the lack of ACTUAL coal-miners who were speaking for the industry at that time; now, for more than one reason, I wonder why that was.

Perhaps it was for similar reasons to My own: that I don’t desire political spotlight. All I request is to go about My chosen life within the boundaries of accepted legal norms, pay My tax, pay My rent and enjoy My life. But then the state decides to intervene.

It was well OVER A MONTH after a PLETHORA of real-time crusades and online campaigns bloomed like a botanical forest, that I even saw Sesta/Fosta mentioned in mainstream media. ALL TYPES of media from mainstream to independent and all the colors in between claimed it was not on the radar of journalists who are quickly seizing on every single movement of Washington. Really? The political environment of a tinder-box where so few bills are passed that each one can be exposed for its realities but THIS one was missed -?

There’s an entire essay in why it’s so hard to believe that news-makers would miss this, so let’s just deal with the strangeness that a) it was excluded from promotion by the protectors of a free internet who campaigned vehemently (although sadly to no avail) against the first anti net-neutrality legislation, and, b) the fact that a list celebrity endorsement of this proposal still didn’t ring any bells, neither for nor against, within any media circuits.

Really????? Really?.

Or is it a more inconvenient truth to say what Bill Maher stated last Friday: “These [sex-workers] are the last people it’s ok to shit on in America”.

When will you wake up and realise that, in this political climate, every infringement on human rights is just another step towards an infringement on all our human rights?

IF YOU DON’T RECOGNISE THIS MOMENT: THEN SEX-WORKERS ARE THE SECOND-CLASS CITIZENS YOU CLAIM YOU WOULDN’T EVER LEAVE BEHIND.

I put up with all the above, quietly seething but not quite bubbling over. But now I have another part to My rant:

Now, FINALLY, and all too late, we are receiving an atom of media coverage. However, the reporting is all being presented by wildly unqualified correspondents.

The Young Turks had to apologise for not covering the story, and when they did Ana Kasparian ((by the way, I love you, and would you please run for President?)) even miss-pronounced “Sesta/Fosta”. How CAN she, or anyone else, have the understanding of a moral, legal and human-rights issue which academics spend millenia studying?

Ana: HOW ABOUT A BRIEF SKYPE INTERVIEW WITH THE INCREDIBLY WELL-ESTABLISHED LEGAL REPRESENTATIVES WHO ARE FIGHTING THIS LEGISLATION????? Is that too much to ask?

It was left to comedian Jim Jeffries to even present the issue at first – God bless him – he is not presenting himself as the nation’s political protector, he should not have to take responsibility to speak for minorities when no one else will.

If none of the representatives (minus TWO!!) who voted for this terrible bill. And none of the celebrities (Amy Schumer and Seth Meyers – What the F?) have the dignity to stand up to defend it in public then is that not the very red-flag we should be shouting about?

Struggle as I do, I can’t remember the first time I read/saw/heard the sex industry being “presented” in non-fiction current affairs. I do know that I have always found every “representation” to be laughable. That didn’t bother Me. In fact, I enjoyed it because it pretended to validate to Me that I had a life which couldn’t be explained to mere mortals!! It was a fun game whereby I had chosen a braver path than a typical media-consumer, as if I knew a secret which was commonly withheld.

Everyone enjoys a secret until they need wider publication!

I guess, I took for granted that a clandestine world would/could always still operate within a civilised one.

Now I find Myself all-out advocating for mainstream representation! Most assuredly I did not expect to come-out like this. Before 2016 I hadn’t attended (in truth – hadn’t needed to attend) a sex workers’ political rally. I had imagined that any legal advice I sought (I’m very careful to remain within the law) would only be called in if travelled abroad. That security in My society has disappeared.

It is a new experience to WANT a light to shine on My world; it’s an uncomfortable one to discover that the flashlight is ALWAYS held by vanilla, inexperienced, demi-puritanical scriveners, who enjoy the novelty of exposing an alternative lifestyle MORE than they care about authenticity in their civic message.

Sex-workers have been eternally and continually vilified. This is a fact. This is fact which every Sex-worker has just signed up to, reluctantly but unquestionably. We signed up because sex-work was the recognized segretated secret society operating in plain sight, and we enjoyed watching vanilla journalists fail to endure Our landscape. But now We need you to include us.

We NEED you to interview those of us who understand the shadows because only We can point your torch in the right direction.

If Stormy Daniels taught you nothing else – surely now you can understand that WE DO HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY AND THE VOICE TO SAY IT.

January and February have been pretty hideous months for Me with not one but three cases of cancer within My circle of friends and relatives.

I would love to comment about how this has made Me a better person but all of you who know Me know better of Me than that! The “Anti-Karma Anti-Queen” is a name I have been awarded more than once.

I have, however, been starkly reminded of the brevity of relationships to which One, foolishly, attributes an eternity.

In response to the enquiries of all My beautifully supportive slaves: I am doing well. I am still in Switzerland but I have now purchased My ticket back to NYC and I shall be returning early on Friday 16th March. I have now opened up bookings from Saturday 17th March onwards with touring to start at the end of March. (Boston, New Jersey and Washington most probably).

Thank you all for your patience. I consider it to be of enormous importance in My profession that I am able to always take all the time I need to process complicated feelings: I still do believe that this makes Me stronger and better at being the wise and steady touchstone to guide you through yours.

“Mistress, what do you like to be called?” is a question I was frequently surprised by in My early years as a Domme. During the beginning of My journey into the life I, naively, surmised that “Mistress” was the only moniker for one’s Top.

I learned pretty quickly. Especially as My social group widened and I made friends with Dommes who don’t like this or that name for which and whatever very valid reason. For example, I have always been drawn to “Goddess” as a title because power-play, control and blind obedience (aka ‘faith’) are turn-ons for Me. However, I know fantastic Dommes who find this word silly and therefore devaluing; I fully understand their point of view.

I’m very relaxed on this topic. My reply to this question within a session is that I accept any of the typical titles as long as you use one. In other words: to call Me simply “Aurea” would be a punishable error but none of the common BDSM salutations are personally offensive to Me.

And then I started receiving emails from uneducated clients and suddenly I experienced what it feels like to be enraged by a greeting and now I understand why well-trained clients have been asking Me that question with such visible nervousness all these years: to err when addressing a Domina is a guaranteed antecedent to absolute fury.

“Mistress, please instruct this slave: what do You like to be called?”

I had thought the answer, for Me, was “Anything”. I never did think I would need to expand: “Any common BDSM address”. Never would I expect to need to explain “nothing else“. What could I possibly mean by this? Mind-blowingly, I refer to adjectives such as: “beautiful”, “gorgeous”, “lovely” and worst of all “sexy”. There are more but I’ve successfully erased them from My memory like the witnessing of an extremely traumatic accident.

Firstly, if you approach someone in the D/s life then, even if you are not in that life, you should respect Her choices and not disregard them. At best that looks like you are invalidating My lifestyle; at worst, that you contemn it.

Secondly, a Lady is more than Her appearance. Is it possible that I have to say this in 2017? If your greeting to Her references only Her beauty then you have just reduced Her to nothing but a pretty picture. “Dear Gorgeous Aurea” means “Dear Aurea who I am only emailing because She is attractive and therefore of interest to me”. Even worse is “Hi gorgeous”. you couldn’t even take the time to use My name. So My name, My whole identity, becomes merely “gorgeous”. Worse still is “sexy”. This word is more about the effect of My looks upon you. So now you’ve downgraded Me to absolutely nothing but a thing which you find sexually appealing; you’ve managed to make even My identity about you.

I’m trying to think of any circumstance when these words would be appropriate in an initial email. I’m struggling. Indeed, even vanilla sex-workers, who may trade more upon their outward appearance, are additionally skilled professionals and businesswomen deserving of a wider scale of recognition, at the very least, upon inaugural contact.

There is another question I am often asked in session: “Mistress, You are so beautiful, why are there so few pictures of You?”. My response to this is just as established. My sessions, fetishes and brand of dominance do not revolve around My looks in any way. I enjoy getting down and dirty, comfortable and sweaty, cerebral and non-observable. I find sessions where I need to be concerned with My appearance difficult and really stressful.

If you’re not approaching Me for My skillset then do not approach Me.

If you are and you think it appropriate to start your approach with “Hi beautiful” then you need to take some time to examine your latent mysogyny and your need to objectify women and view nothing deeper than their pictorial appeal, before any credible Domme may even bother to reply: “Hi moron”.

I spent last month on the road a lot. Far more than I have for a long time. While slave chauffeured, My mind wandered as I surveyed the highway around Me.

A three line freeway is an allegory to life and One may tell the personalities of each individual driver. Without fail, the landscape depressed Me. The vast majority of drivers were male: One could tell before looking into the window to confirm. How? Well because men make asshole drivers. Like I said – an allegory to life. They drive with only a thought to their own vehicle and how they “compete” with other vehicles. A good road driver (as opposed to any kind of race driver – that’s a different cockfight) handles themselves, their machine and the others in their environment like a dance. A good road driver is aware at all times of everything happening around them and strives always to strike a beautiful balance between their own aims and their surrounding society. That doesn’t only mean driving courteously, it means to consider all repercussions of their movements: do I HAVE to brake now or could I slow down naturally? – if My brake lights go on then it will affect those behind Me; am I really in the best lane? could I achieve My desired speed perfectly comfortably in an area where I am further from other drivers concerns?

Rarely did I see the ‘slow lane’ even used at all – NEWS ALERT: rules of the road say that EVERYONE should be in the inside lane unless they are actively overtaking, but I guess that doesn’t compute when your sense of self-worth is directly tied to other drivers’ perception of your vacuous display of driver-assertiveness. Frequently, I saw drivers brake, then accelerate, then brake – NEWS ALERT: you are never supposed to brake on a highway except in case of emergency, but men cannot think of a drive as a continual journey, like goldfish they can only process the information in 3 second pieces. And never did I see someone use their hazard lights to signal any politeness to fellow road-occupants – they are there for a reason, people, how about you let those behind you know if there is something unusual ahead, or – God forbid – thank them for an act of generosity.

I’m not talking about road rage, I’m talking about the micro-adjustments which the multi-faceted minds of Ladies can calculate, versus the single-mindedness of a phallus powering a bullet through an audience.

When the Femocracy revolution begins, perhaps we should start by banning males from public highways.